George Herbert (1593-1633)
I got me flowers to strew thy way;
I got me boughs off many a tree;
And brought'st thy sweets along with thee.
The sun arising in the east,
Though he gave light, and the east perfume,
If they should offer to contest
With thy arising, they presume.
Can there be any day but this,
Though many suns to shine endeavour?
We count three hundred, but we miss:
There is but one, and that one ever.
Happy Easter, everyone!